


He’s a Little Tied Up Right Now...

by tahitianmangoes



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: F/M, Gunplay, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-03
Updated: 2020-10-03
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:20:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26784322
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tahitianmangoes/pseuds/tahitianmangoes
Summary: You haven't seen Dutch Van der Linde for 3 years. You come across his bounty poster in Blackwater and the opportunity seems too good to resist.
Relationships: Dutch van der Linde/Reader
Kudos: 42





	He’s a Little Tied Up Right Now...

**Author's Note:**

> This was part of a fic giveaway held on my [tumblr](https://tahitianmangoes.tumblr.com/post/629016277463318528/tms-masterlist)

You find yourself riding into Blackwater. You hadn’t been here for a long time; places like this make your skin crawl, too many people poking their noses in where they’re not needed and a lawman around every corner. You’d been out on the trail for a while now, hitting stagecoaches and robbing homesteads out past Tumbleweed - the law wasn’t so concerned out there. Gaptooth Ridge and the Rio Bravo were difficult places to search and not worth the time. 

But now supplies were running low. Your plan was to go to Blackwater and not hang around too long; get some supplies and get out of there. 

But that all changed as you hitched your horse outside the general store. A bounty poster hung by the door and you recognised the roughly drawn face, the dark charcoal eyes that glared back at you were unmistakably those of Dutch van Der Linde. 

You haven’t seen him in at least three years. Oh, he’d tried his best to poach you from the folks you used to run with back then and then he’d asked you over and over to join him and his gang since you started doing things solo and each time you turned him down. Each time he came back with a stronger proposition, each time it got harder and harder to refuse… But you did. Maybe you regretted that now. Some nights you’d think of him and wish you’d accepted his offer.

But you hadn’t. He certainly drove a hard bargain but you valued your freedom too much. You wouldn’t be a slave to anyone, least of all Dutch van der Linde. 

By the looks of the bounty poster, whatever job he’d had here had been successful because he was now wanted for robbing a ferry and getting away with a bunch of money… But it also looked like he’d gotten away with a bunch of trouble, too. 

The bounty poster said that they would pay $5000 for the delivery of Dutch van der Linde, dead or alive. Five grand could go quite away. It would certainly get you out of the desert.  
You thought about it for a few days. You couldn’t get him out of your head, lord knows you’d tried...

The poster said that he was last spotted in Big Valley so that’s where you headed. It took a week or so but you finally got a lead. It sounded like he’d moved even further east, more east than you'd ever known him to go; there’d been talk of a large group of people turning up just outside of Valentine and that sounded like Dutch and his people.

You don’t know what possessed you, Valentine was further east than you intended to go, too but that was the affect Dutch had on people.

Valentine was a farming town and smelled as such. Your boots squelched in the thick mud that made up the streets, you wrinkled your nose, not used to it since spending the best part of your time in dusty New Austin.  
Sure enough, after a couple of days hanging around, you recognised a couple of men in the saloon to be Javier Escuella and Charles Smith talking to a couple of working girls. They were followed by a drawling voice that you recognised, too, “I didn’t know I was talkin’ to a lady…”  
Arthur Morgan. And wherever Arthur Morgan was, Dutch van der Linde wasn’t too far away…

You knew for sure that it was Arthur when a bar fight spilled out onto the street. Arthur made short work of a man at least twice the size of him while a small crowd gathered around to watch. 

Afterwards, he sat down outside the general store. You hovered nearby but not too close to be seen.

“Look who we found sniffing about.” You recognised that voice. There he was, Dutch van der Linde leading another well dressed man towards Arthur who you didn’t recognise.  
You didn’t hear the rest of the conversation but you didn’t really care. You watched Dutch whose presence commanded attention, as ever. He was still as handsome as you remembered him; black hair slicked back, tall, slender yet muscular. Funny how it takes years to undo how you felt but hearing his voice and seeing him for a mere second was enough to take you right back. 

And now all you needed was to get him alone. It was easier than you thought.

You watched as he patted the finely dressed man on the back and watched him mount up. Dutch was alone and you took your chance.

“Dutch van Der Linde.”  
He turned, amber eyes sparkling as he sees you, “my, my… is that who I think it is?”  
You smirked at him, “well that depends, doesn’t it.”  
He said your name and you did your best not to show him that it made you shiver.  
“Still as beautiful as ever,” he crooned, leaning closer to you to take your hand, soft lips brushing against the back of it.  
“And you’re still full of it, Dutch.”  
Dutch laughed almost theatrically. “Why don’t we have a drink, my dear? We have a lot to catch up on.”  
“We certainly do.” 

He took you around the corner and into a different saloon, smaller and more intimate. He ordered a bottle of whiskey at the bar and pours for you at the table.

“It must be, what? Three years? More?” He askedyou. You somehow think he knows exactly how long it’s been - you didn’t part on the best of terms afterall...

“Did you miss me?” You asked him, eyes fixed on him as you knocked back the whiskey in one. You’d always been able to handle your drink.  
“Like the desert misses the rain, my dear.” He always had the prettiest words and knew how to use them.

One or two drinks turned into another bottle. You made sure Dutch’s glass was never empty. The sun had set long ago and the small saloon was busy now.

Dutch spouted the usual bull about his philosophy, about society and the world. You paid little attention, nodding in the right places but mainly watching him. He looked almost the same. His facial hair was grown and preened, his hair a little longer now, to below his ears. He still dressed like a man with the taste for finer things in life rather than the outlaw he was.

He staggered as you both left and you almost felt sorry for him. But not that much.

\----

Dutch van der Linde opened his eyes to bright sunlight. You watched him slowly come round, realise that he didn’t know where he was and also realise that he was on the floor, tied up with his arms and wrists bound behind his back, ankles together. He looked a little worse for wear, most probably hung over; his once crisp white shirt is now wrinkled and the pomade in his hair has worn off. 

You watched him as he tried to focus on the unfamiliar room; the remote homestead was somewhere you’d looked into before reaching Valentine.  
Dutch looked up and saw you sitting on a dining chair before him, legs crossed, revolver held lazily in your shooting hand. 

He almost laughed. “What is all this, darlin’?” He struggled against the rope but he knew it wasuseless. “Why don’t you get me outta this and we can pretend none of this ever happened?”

You weren't about to do that. Also weren't about to forget what Dutch had done three years ago, either.

“There’s a mighty big bounty on your head, Mr Van der Linde.” You told him.  
Dutch does laugh now, a short bark of surprised laughter, “so what? You’re a bounty hunter now?”  
You shrugged, nonplussed. “Money ain’t so easy to come by now, Dutch. There ain’t always a train to rob.”  
“You ain’t still mad about that, are you darlin’..? It was years ago!” He spluttered in disbelief. “It’s all in the past now!” He composed himself, offering you a smirk, “I assure you, my dear, whatever they’re payin’ you, I can get you more.”

You raised your eyebrows. “It is a big price, Dutch.”  
“I’ll double it, I swear it.”  
When has Dutch Van der Linde’s promises been worth a dime before? 

You sighed, leaning back in the chair, as if considering his words.  
“I’ll get you whatever it is you want. Money, jewellery, horses… Anything!” You’ve never seen him squirm before.  
Maybe he can tell that you’re enjoying it because he took a moment before speaking again. “I am very sorry for cutting you out of the train job.” He spoke slowly and deliberately, his bright eyes fixed on yours. “I would be so very grateful if you let me go, my dear.”  
“You know your problem, Dutch?” You said to him, getting to your feet - you’ve heard all of this before. “You talk too much.”

You reached for the double-action revolver, it wasn’t loaded but he wasn’t to know that. You didn’t want to hurt him and less kill him, just scare him a little and watch that big, bad man lose composure. There was something so exciting about it

His eyes flashed as you held the revolver to his face. “Come on now, sweetheart-”  
“You talk too much.” You repeated firmly as you nudge his lips with the barrel.  
He could see you weren’t playing. His chest moved faster now, breathing sped up. The look in his eye wasn’t fear - he can mask it all too well, but you know he’s worried. 

The barrel slides into his mouth, he took it with ease and didn’t fight back. His eyes were fixed on yours. You tentatively pushed the barrel in further, his lips closed around it almost instinctively in a sucking motion. He looked away, embarrassed; you could see the colour playing across his face in a flush. 

“Good boy,” you cooed. You didn’t know why it was so exciting, why it turned you on but it did; watching him so powerless, taking the barrel of the gun like despite all his talk... You knew he was excited too, in a twisted way.  
You slid the barrel back, then in again over and over, fucking his mouth while you studied his handsome, angular face, his almond shaped eyes that have always sparkled so brightly that now swam with dark lust.

He knew not to try and fight, that struggling or threatening you wouldn’t get him anywhere, he submitted silently. 

When you pulled the barrel out, he was panting a little. He didn’t speak now, not wanting to push his luck.  
“Why don’t you show me how grateful you would be if I let you go?” You asked playfully. He knew what you meant, he knew to play along. 

You hitched your skirt, letting your undergarments down. Dutch licked his lips at the sight of you. You didn’t really remember the last time you’d been intimate with anyone, that much was evident from how wet you were already just from the sight of Dutch getting facefucked by your revolver.

His hot breath ghosted your skin before he planted a kiss on your inner thigh.  
He held his tongue out so you were able to slowly thrust onto it, letting it brush up against your clit ever so slightly and slide between your legs. You shivered. You let your eyes close for a moment as your breath caught in your throat. 

He kissed again, this time further up before pressing his lips to yours. You placed your hands on his broad shoulders, fingers gripping the material of his fine vest. You forgot yourself and let out a sigh as his tongue flicked up, teasing you and licking at you, almost hungrily. You felt him smile and you grabbed his hair roughly so he let out a startled sound, not wanting him to get cocky.

When you opened your eyes, his sparkling dark eyes met yours, watching your expression as he swirled his tongue expertly around your sensitive clit then back down, lapping and sucking at your slicked folds so you shivered and quaked above him. You could tell he’s enjoying this, gaze burning into you, intent on making you come.

You fought your urge to grind down on him, to thrust and rut against his oh so hungry mouth. The feeling of his facial hair prickled and pressured you deliciously and his tongue pressed down hard on all your sensitive parts, it’s like he knew what you want before you did.

You wanted to moan, wanted to curse but wouldn’t let him see you lose it, wouldn’t let him know how damn good it felt to have him bound and at your mercy, pleasing you like this.

“Good boy,” you repeated, fingers fisting his hair so you could ride his face, the tingling between your legs spreading to warmth, a hot pleasure burning through the pit of your stomach and spreading throughout your body. You can see his mouth and chin was wet from fluids, he moaned at the sight of you above him, flushed and wanton. As much as you liked him helpless, you couldn’t help but think about what would happen if you untied him: he could have you over the table, hard and fast... But where was the fun in letting him have his way?

Your body moved rhythmically of its own accord as you finally submitted to pleasure. Your legs trembled as you panted and failed at stifling your moans anymore, coming hard into his mouth and gasped his name, your grip on his hair tightening, forcing him to stay in place until you were done.

You stayed over him for a few moments, shaking and trying not to whimper. He stopped licking now and went back to kissing your inner thighs almost tenderly.  
You let your skirt fall back down as you moved away from Dutch. His cheeks were rosy now and his lips glistened with your juices. He licked his lips clean as he watched you catch your breath. 

“You gonna untie me now?” He asked you after a short while.

You stepped back into your undergarments and pulled them up. He looked good like this, hair tousled, neck reddened and cock hard in his pants. 

“Maybe,” you said with a hint of a smile.


End file.
